


As a Kite

by ilookedback



Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [9]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Kissing, Touching, basically this is a story about accidentally getting Marcus high and making out with him, implications of more, pot brownies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: Marcus tilts his head and gives you a curious look, forehead starting to crease in concern. There’s a smudge of chocolate just at the corner of his mouth and you can’t tear your eyes away from it. “Honey? Is something wrong?”You gesture helplessly at the plate on the counter beside him. “How many of those did you eat?” you manage to choke out.He has the grace to look mildly ashamed. “Two? Sorry, did you need to take all of them? I thought you wouldn’t miss—”Your face must betray your horror because he trails off, looking increasingly worried. “What’swrong?” he asks again.“Marcus,” you whisper. “Those are… special brownies.Potbrownies.”
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952407
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	As a Kite

**Author's Note:**

> For day 9 of my Hyggetober Ficlet Challenge, which is based off of [this prompt list](https://www.instagram.com/p/B201-j7ljdU/?igshid=1pflwcl5260me) and will span several Pedro fandoms. Today's prompt is "baking."
> 
> disclaimer: please use drugs responsibly and label your edibles clearly

You catch Marcus in the kitchen and you can’t speak for a moment. You are— _horrified_ , absolutely _dismayed_ , dumbstruck and mortified that this could have happened.

Marcus tilts his head and gives you a curious look, forehead starting to crease in concern. There’s a smudge of chocolate just at the corner of his mouth and you can’t tear your eyes away from it. “Honey? Is something wrong?”

You gesture helplessly at the plate on the counter beside him. “How many of those did you eat?” you manage to choke out.

He has the grace to look mildly ashamed. “Two? Sorry, did you need to take all of them? I thought you wouldn’t miss—”

Your face must betray your horror because he trails off, looking increasingly worried. “What’s _wrong_?” he asks again.

“Marcus,” you whisper. “Those are… special brownies. _Pot_ brownies.”

If you didn’t feel sick with dismay over having accidentally drugged your law-abiding, federal agent boyfriend, the expression his face twists into would be hilarious. He seems to be stuck somewhere between confusion, disbelief, and shocked horror at the turn of events. He looks at the plate of brownies like it’s betrayed him. Then he rubs a hand over his cheek and scrubs at his jaw.

“I feel normal,” he says, sounding cautiously hopeful. You cringe.

“It might take a little while.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “What were you thinking? You know I get drug tested.”

“They weren’t for you!” you protest. “They were for girls’ night! Leslie’s cousin is in town and we were going to get a little wild.”

“Jesus,” he says again, shaking his head. “I’m… gonna go lie down.”

“Sorry!” you call after him, and then you text Leslie with your regrets and do your best not to hover by the bedroom door.

It turns out it is funny. To him, at least. You’ve never seen such a goofy smile on his face.

“I feel… light,” he says, thoughtfully. “Floaty.”

“High?” you offer. He laughs.

“Hiiigh,” he repeats. “Yeah. I can’t believe you fuckin’…” He trails off, looking at you. You feel a little jealous and you think you might eat one of the brownies yourself. What have you got to lose?

“Listen,” he says. His tone turns a little serious, though he’s still got a beatific smile on his face. “I forgive you. For drugging me.”

You bite back the defensive urge to protest that it wasn’t like you’d done it on purpose. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Even thought it’s a federal crime,” he continues. “And I could arrest you.”

You nod, repentant.

“I won’t, though,” he assures you. “I promise.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“I feel…” He closes his eyes. Tilts his head to the side slowly, experimental. “Really good,” he finishes. And your heart goes a little warm to see the looseness in his body, the content expression on his face. He can be so buttoned up, and you love that side of him, too, but you like seeing him relaxed like this, circumstances notwithstanding.

“Hey,” he says, opening his eyes again and seeking you out. “Come here. I want to try something.”

You go to him, standing in front of him where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and he guides you closer with his hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs, nudging his knee in between your legs.

“C’mere,” he says again, tugging you down, and you straddle his lap. He’s already tilting his face up for you, leaning in, already making it obvious what he wants but he tells you anyway. “I wanna feel you kiss me,” he murmurs, and presses his mouth to yours.

He barely survives the kiss, breaking away after a moment and laughing breathlessly as he falls back onto the bed. His hands scrabble at your hips. You brush your fingers over his cock, curiously, and find him already halfway hard. His blown out eyes meet yours and he laughs again and grinds up into your touch. “I told you I feel good.”

You follow him down, kiss him lightly, easing him into the sensation of it. He presses up into you, gripping tight at your thighs and finding the friction between your legs, and groans, loud and uninhibited.

“Fuck,” he moans. “It feels—I want—I want your _mouth_.”

And as you make your way down his body, working open his shirt and pressing your lips to his sensitive skin, he looks down at you in despaired pleasure.

“This feels too good,” he sighs. “I’m never eating your baking again.”


End file.
